


Accepting Nature

by Stephanielikes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Light Angst, Purgatory, Short Story, light fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-19 04:00:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3595512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stephanielikes/pseuds/Stephanielikes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The most dangerous part of Purgatory wasn't the monsters, it was the place its self.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Accepting Nature

**Author's Note:**

  * For [greenglowsgold](https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenglowsgold/gifts).



                The vampire paused to sniff the air. It reeked of decay, and a thousand species playing predator and prey on each other. There was a dullness to the smells. One he couldn’t exactly place, but nagged at a corner of his memory. Even the human’s distinct warm scent of leather and spice faded quickly as he continued forward. Benny filled his lungs, tasting the change. He listened for sounds of approach. None came. Benny squinted up into the canopy; haze dimmed the morning sky. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end; his fangs descended. What creature lurked ahead with enough power to muffle Purgatory?

                If Heaven were summer, and Hell winter, Purgatory was a late October day. The forest floor constantly littered with a layer of leaves and twigs that had never fallen. The trees retained their browning foliage. A muted sun beat down during the day, never hidden behind clouds. At night, the sky turned to ink without stars or moon. The temperature stayed on the low side of comfortable, neither climbing in the grim sun nor declining in the pitiless shade of night.

                In all the once countless years Benny dwelt in limbo, he never knew anything to remain as constant. Therefore, he could be forgiven for rushing to blame the looming threat on a tangible beast. Perhaps one strong enough to best him and the hunter, but a creature with a finite range. One that could be out run if not overcome.

                “It feel different to you?” Benny asked.

                “What?” The human stopped and turned in the wary way he had, weapon ready to strike.

                “Colder, like something big is coming?”

                Dean, whose senses were abnormally acute for his kind, drew taut like a bowstring. He moved through the same checks as Benny. Scent. Taste. Sound. Sight. Dean shrugged.

                “Feels the same to me, man.”

                The vampire stared. No, it didn’t. On that he was sure, even if the cause evaded his notice. Of course, Dean had been in Purgatory only a few months. For all the hunter knew the seasons turned slowly, for all he knew there were seasons to turn. He probably expected it to change, the way all new arrivals did. The human lacked the instinct to tell if the atmosphere fell out of alignment by one degree because he hadn’t been there long enough to develop it.

                “So, we going, or…?” Dean questioned Benny with a concerned look.

                Warmth spread through Benny’s damned soul. What if this place wore on the man, dousing him in mundane, the way his presence sparked something vibrant in Benny. A breeze chilled Benny’s ears. The faster they left this hole, the better.

                “Lead the way to his pack.”

                As he turned, Dean rolled his eyes. “Enough with the Underworld bullshit.”

                “We’re in the underworld.”

                “We get top side, you have a lot of catching up to do.”

                Their banter died quicker than usual as they followed the way the werewolf insisted the angel fled.

 

                The cold pursued them as relentlessly as any monster. The temperature fell steadily until the sky opened and the snow drifted down in flurries. Benny trailed after Dean for days, deeper into the mountains than he’d ventured before. They hadn’t run into the wolf pack as he’d expected, but they weren’t unmolested either. The latest attack, yet another disoriented and disgruntled leviathan, left Benny without a weapon, and Dean with a shallow gash from his left oblique to his belly button. They trudged on.

                Dean sank to his knees. Benny, acting on impulse, reached out to help the man back to his feet. Animal reflexes saved the vampire. Dean swung at his neck, the human’s eyes glossy and wild. Benny’s fangs were out and he readied to spring on Dean’s throat.The hunter’s head lolled.

                “Sorry.” Dean croaked. They hadn’t spoken much recently. Benny too on edge about the weather, and Dean too focused on his pursuit. Or so Benny thought. “I slipped.”

                “See, I only know what you said because I’m fluent in bullshit.” Benny growled.

                Dean shook as he struggled back to his feet. His puffs of breath in the air were small but steady. “I slipped.”

                Dean made it clear he wouldn’t elaborate further. Benny gestured that he should lead on. Benny felt worry again for the first time since he’d landed there.

               

                The sky gave up its teasing, and the storm began in earnest. Where before the ground was dusted in a thin sheet, now the whole world was white. The unlikely duo passed the mountain’s tree line, and continued up the snow covered slope. Without the trunks for shelter, the unhindered wind pierced Benny’s thick wool coat. He shivered, more from the sudden sensation than actual chill. Dean didn’t seem to notice it; he pushed forward, ignoring the clumps of snow sticking to his clothes and face. The man stumbled up the rocks, heading in one direction for a yard before veering in another. Benny learned the first time not to rush to Dean’s aide, so he held back each time Dean halted.

                “There’s a crag up ahead. Make for that.” Benny yelled over the wind.

                Dean unzipped his jacket. The blade Dean stole from Benny’s previous partner slid from his grip, landing in the snow with a soft fwump. Benny watched in shock as the hunter kept walking with no indication he noticed the weapon wasn’t in his hand anymore. The vampire collected it. Dean went to his knees again. Benny waited. This was the fourth time; Dean always fought back to his feet, refusing to admit anything that could be perceived as weakness. Dean fell forward not even lifting his hands to protect his face.

                “Dean!” Benny shouted, dropped the blade to rush to his human’s side. Benny crouched beside Dean, pulling him onto his back. Dean’s eyes were half open. “Hey.”

                Benny lightly slapped Dean’s cheek, and hissed. The skin was so cold it stung his palm. Dean weakly pushed Benny’s hand away.

                “’M’ffin.”

                “Sure, you stubborn ass. We could’ve found shelter. Built a fire.”

                “Jus’ tired.” Dean struggled to sit up.

                “Since when do you need sleep?” Benny helped Dean to his feet.

                Hunger, exhaustion, and desire were all extinquished in Purgatory, replaced by the constant struggle to survive the slaughter. Dean patted Benny’s shoulder, and took two shaky steps. Benny caught Dean under the arms as he fell back.

                “’Mm-“

                “-fine. Yeah, I get it.” Benny looked around. The forest was back nearly half a mile, while the crag lay roughly 20 yards ahead. He half dragged the man to it. Finding the lee side, he settled Dean against the rock that turned out to be only slightly colder than Dean himself.

                Their only weapon lay back there; snow - no doubt - beginning to hide it. Further beyond, the trees and what sheltered they provided stood waiting, barely visible to Benny through the storm. He looked down at Dean shivering on the ground with his eyes closed. Benny removed his coat and wrapped it across Dean’s shoulders. Dean grunted.

                “I’ve got to grab some stuff. Stay here.”

                Dean grunted again.

                Benny shook him. “Here and awake. Got it?”

                Dean swatted at Benny, knocking the pea coat down. Benny tucked it back. He wasted no time after that, moving as quickly as the weather allowed through their tracks to the discarded machete. He scooped it up and kept his pace until he was safe beneath the canopy.

                Benny scoured for a tree with low branches to hoist himself into, but large enough to provide protection from the elements. The branches groaned under the growing accumulation. The vampire ended up using his weight to crack several limbs, and then sever the strips of green wood that kept them attached to their trunks. His work took near an hour; the journey back to Dean with the branches over his shoulders took another half. The steady sound of hot blood pumping through Dean’s veins guided Benny back to Dean’s side.

                “A righteous bone. Blood of the fallen – angel, humanity, beasts.” The hunter muttered to himself. “A righteous bone. Blood of the fallen – angel, humanity, beasts.”

                “Good to see you listen for once.” Benny dropped his load with a crash. Dean didn’t even flinch.

                “They’re all him. Trust the demon. Don’t.”

                As long as Dean was conscious, Benny could worry about the rest later. He selected the two largest limbs, and sharpened an end on each before staking them with difficulty in the frozen ground. Benny made a bed of the plushest branches. He reached into his coat pocket for the twine he used to attach sharpened stones to handles. Benny paused to press his palm to Dean’s cheek, hoping being out of the wind had warmed the human. Dean pressed into the warm touch and shivered. His skin remained painfully cold.

                Benny strung together the remaining branches and completed the lean-to. Even if he had flint, or a lighter, the wood was too wet for a fire. He looked over his work, and nodded. It was shit, but nothing better was going to fall from the sky. He had to hope it would be enough. Dean allowed Benny to drag him into the shelter. To call it warm would’ve been a cruel joke, but out of the wind and snow the bitterness was cut.

                Benny stripped Dean of the wool coat, and leather jacket, then laid Dean on one side, facing the rock wall, and curled close behind. He spread the lighter jacket over their legs, and used the warmer to cover their torsos. Benny supported Dean’s head on one arm, wrapping the other around Dean’s chest, holding both Dean’s wrists so the man’s arms were drawn tight against his body. The cold radiating off Dean burned.

                Dean stopped muttering. All the vampire could hear was the beating of Dean’s heart. He pushed his hand against Dean’s rib cage, and felt the rhythmic pounding. Benny lost track of time as he held Dean and the storm came in like the rising tide. Lulled, Benny didn’t notice he had to press harder to feel each thump of Dean’s heart. The sound drifted off as if it were the last note of a song on the radio. Benny jerked to attention when he missed the next beat.

                “Dean!” Benny dropped Dean’s wrists and unceremoniously shoved his hand up Dean’s shirts. He rubbed over Dean’s heart, the friction warming the flesh. “Dean.”

                “MBrr.” Dean shivered.

                Benny didn’t know why, but that seemed better to him.

                “You’ve been here too long.” Benny voiced the thought that had been eating at him since the first flake fell. “You’re walking away from the exit. It’s trying to kick you out.”

                “Pff. Snot e’en the coldest I been.” Dean chattered.

                “What’s the coldest then?” Benny increased the area he rubbed warmth into, dragging his hand down, over the scab, to Dean’s belly button and back to his heart. Slowly, the skin returned warmth instead of cold.

                “Late January. Must’ve been ten. Sammy n’ I were holed up in a rental cabin while Dad was on a hunt. Supposed to be quick, so he didn’t enroll us in the local. February came with the worst cold and wind, no snow. Snow warms things, see? You wouldn’t think so, but it does. Just cold and colder. Power went out. The hot water was attached to the site generator and that lasted a few days. Used pots of the hottest water the taps pulled to warm the blankets while it did. Wasn’t so bad until that cut out too. Only took half a minute for your fingers to go numb if you weren’t under the blankets. Had to put Sam in three layers of his clothes and two of mine. He hated it.” Dean chuckled.

                “I fed him frozen bread with peanut butter every meal for three days.”

                “What did you eat?”

                Dean fell silent for a minute, then continued as if he hadn’t heard. “I couldn’t do it anymore. The cold. Huddled under fifty pounds of blankets with my squirming, whining kid brother. I brought in the busted grill, and dug the charcoal bricks out of the cabinets. I thought I was being clever – a makeshift fireplace. Made Sammy peanut butter toast. He cried for a banana. I got so pissed.” Dean coughed. “I planned to stay awake. Watch the coals. But I was tired. So tired… tired.” Benny squeezed Dean. “Woke to Dad cursing, chucking the grill outside, and opening windows to get the smoke out. I almost burned the cabin down with Sam and I in it. Couldn’t sit right for weeks.”

                Benny let the silence stretch for a few minutes before he rocked his knee into Dean’s thigh.

                “What did you eat?” Dean hadn’t said ‘we ate’, but that he had fed Sam. Benny wasn’t sure why he cared, exactly, but the phrasing held him.

                “Huh?”

                “You fed Sam peanut butter, but what did you eat?” 

                Dean stayed silent. He huffed.

                “Just shut up.”

                “Come again, Chief?”

                “I eat when you sleep, so down the damned bread and get back under the covers.”

                Benny’s nails drug down Dean’s abs. Benny’d been a little shit of a boy, but he’d been doted on, yet he tried not to think about before. Any before. Before Purgatory. Before Andrea. Before being turned. The man in his arms seemed to have waded through a cesspit of life and did nothing but dwell on the before.

                “You’re stripping my skin, man.” Dean squirmed away from Benny’s hand and back against his chest.

                Benny stopped rubbing and squeezed Dean tight. Dean’s breathing even out. Benny shook him.

                “No sleeping. Keep talking.”

                “If Purgatory’s trying to kill me you think this’ll stop? It’ll go until I do, and I ain’t got that many stories.”

                “What do you know about Purgatory? She’s just seeing what you’re made of.”

                “Testing the fences for weakness?”

                “So to speak.”

                “She remembers.” Dean said in an accent.

                “M’I missing something?”

                “About 50 years.”

                “Catch me up.”

                “Eh. I was never good in history. Now if you wanted to know the entire catalog of classic rock… maybe.”

                “Let me hear it.”

                “I don’t sing.”

                “Now you’re just teasing.”

                “What do I get?”

                “What do you mean?”

                “You get the pleasure of my melodious tones. What do I get in return?”

                “No laughing?”

                “I would never.”

                “I studied literature, and poetry for a few years.”

                “Like in college?”

                Benny nodded; their bodies so close his nose brushed Dean’s neck.

                “Alright college boy. Woo me with your words and I’ll school you in how to rock.”

                They traded words. Benny started with Tennyson, Keating, and Byron. Dean did Zeplin, and AC/DC. Benny shared the creepiest faerie tales he could remember. Dean summarized as many movies as he could recall. They talked until their throats were raw and their voices cracked.

                It snowed through that day, and that night, and the day after. The storm abated in the second night. Neither were awake when it stopped. Dean held Benny’s arm to his chest, and Benny’s leg wrapped over Dean’s thighs and between his legs.

 

                Benny jerked awake. Cold air chilled his sweat drenched shirt. He blinked against the sun. Pushing up on his elbows, his brain clunked awake.

                “Dean?” Benny crawled out of the lean-to.

                If it weren’t for the feet of snow surrounding him, the day was like all those other ones before. Before Dean. Benny shut his eyes and breathed in, the world smelled of spring. Wet and warming – alive. The vampire heard Dean’s heartbeat, though the snow muffled his approach. A snowball flew past his shoulder. Benny turned; Dean smiled wickedly.

                “That was on purpose.” Dean tossed another casually in the air, and caught it without his eyes ever leaving Benny’s. “I didn’t have to miss.”

                “You tryin to convince me or yourself, brother?”

                Dean’s smile fell; his tongue shot out over his cracked lips.

                “Don’t you dare throw that snowba-“ Hard packed snow smacked wet against Benny’s collarbone. Cold clumps slid under his neckline. “goddammit.”

                Dean’s laugh was like summer.

**Author's Note:**

> written with the prompt: "Denny, #11, "Don’t you dare throw that snowba-, goddammit!" :D"


End file.
